


Beat the Heat

by ssclassof56



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 07:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19785988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssclassof56/pseuds/ssclassof56
Summary: At UNCLE HQ a rising thermostat creates challenges…and opportunities.





	Beat the Heat

The commissary was steeped in still, sultry air, further enervating the few personnel who had mustered an appetite. The continual whir of the Multimixer overpowered the murmurs of listless conversation. 

Napoleon signaled to the counter man, then tapped his empty glass. Fred acknowledged the request with a nod. 

“How much longer until these upgrades are completed?” Illya asked testily from the other side of the table.

“A few more days.” Napoleon fanned himself with the menu card. “Our ventilation system was more vulnerable than we thought.” 

Illya rested his face in his hands. “Why could Mr. Waverly not have sent most of the staff home?”

“Because the bad guys won’t take time off.”

“Are you certain? Things are unusually quiet this week. It is as if Thrush is deliberately lying low in order to keep us here.”

“I would think you’d appreciate a few days of peace. We don’t get them often.”

“I would appreciate them more if they were spent outside this sauna.”

Napoleon leaned back and adjusted the fall of his guayabera shirt. His crossed legs were clad in linen slacks, his feet in woven leathers slip-ons. “At least Mr. Waverly relaxed the dress code.”

Illya unfastened the lowest button of his short-sleeved polo shirt. His throat glistened. “The only dress code that would make a difference would be to declare us a nudist colony.”

When this statement provoked no reaction, Illya followed his partner’s gaze to the counter, where a pair of female personnel waited for their order. “I suspect this perceived vulnerability was your own invention.”

“No, but I do think the discomforts are worth the benefits.” Napoleon admired the expanses of skin normally hidden by the requisite blouse and pencil skirt. “The many benefits.”

Fred set a tall glass of water on the table. Napoleon’s lips twisted. “Where’s the ice?”

“Sorry, Mr. Solo,” Fred said with a shrug. “We’ve only got one machine, and it’s having trouble keeping up with demand.”

Illya quirked his brows as Fred returned to his post. “You were saying something about benefits.”

The two women headed for the door, sandwich packets in hand. Their yellow security badges looked out of place on their colorful, summery frocks. At Napoleon’s smile, they stopped. The blonde in the halter dress sipped her straw and smiled back. 

Napoleon gestured to the glass brimming with ice cubes. “I guess it takes being a beautiful girl to get a cold drink around here.”

“No, silly.” The women looked at each other conspiratorially and giggled. “We brought this ourselves.”

Napoleon sat up straighter. “Resourceful, as well as beautiful. Tell us more.”

The redhead in the minidress with matching striped shorts jerked her gaze away from Illya. “We brought coolers of ice from home. All the girls in Accounting did.”

“We’ve even got fans blowing over bowlfuls.” The blonde plucked a cube from her glass and ran it slowly over her collar bone. “You should come up and see us sometime.”

Napoleon grinned and raised his glass. “We will.”

Illya rolled his eyes. “Our presence will only make the room hotter.”

“I’ll say,” the redhead exclaimed and blushed beneath her freckles. “I mean, we can always get more.”

“There’s a cooler at my place,” Napoleon said, “and I keep, ah, plenty of ice on hand.”

The blonde dragged the cube further into the deep V of her neckline. “Handsome and resourceful.”

“His refrigerator makes it automatically,” Illya said.

Napoleon grimaced at his partner, who remained unfazed. “Tell you what. Illya and I have a brief meeting in”—he checked his watch—“fifteen minutes. How about we stop by after that?”

“See you then.” The blonde slid the half-depleted ice cube between her lips and wiggled her fingers at him. 

“Bye,” the redhead said with a giggle. She took a final look at Illya and hurried after her friend.

“Those arms. I couldn’t stop staring,” she said when they were safely in the elevator. She pressed a hand to her forehead and fell back against the wall.

“Too bad the legs are still buried in gray flannel.”

“Napoleon looked ready for a poolside in Miami Beach.” 

“Tomorrow I’m hoping for a terrycloth jumpsuit,” the blonde said. “One with a very short inseam.”

The elevator doors slid open. “How many days do we have?” the redhead whispered as they walked down the corridor.

“Two at the most. Bill says he can’t delay the installations any longer than that.”

“Your brother is a doll.”

“A doll maybe, but not a philanthropist. Remember we promised him a full social calendar in return.”

“The rotation’s all set. Carol’s got him this weekend.” The redhead giggled. “He’ll have higher circulation than Napoleon.”

A dozen eager faces fixed on them as they entered their office. 

“Well?”

“Did it work?”

“Are they coming?”

At the redhead’s blushing nod, a clamor of excitement arose. The blonde lifted her hand for quiet.

“Ladies, phase one of Beat the Heat is a success. But we must stay focused. Today we’ll have biceps. Tomorrow we want knees.”


End file.
